When Worlds Touch
by Jasper Blood
Summary: Erika was destined to be a tool of the occult. The niece of the head of the Thule; caught in a freak storm, leaving her with supernatural abilities, a robotic prosthetic arm; she could end the world or save it. Read and Review! Newly Rewritten!
1. Terrible Weather to be Out In

Prologue

Berlin, Germany- 1942

The sky was a bleak shade of grey, a fine drizzle soaking every inch of the city and allowing a dismal sense of cold to be absorbed into the poorly insulated foundations of the few passersby that wandered about. It wasn't a late hour, perhaps five o'clock, but it was as if all remnants save for a precious few, of civilization had crawled into a dank gutter to take cover from the chill and watch as a storm brewed in the heavens, the clouds swirling above like some sort of freakish maelstrom.

One of the few passersby who had chosen not to flee was a young girl of perhaps some fifteen years. She wasn't anything unusual, but she wasn't quite ordinary either. She hurried along the sidewalk, a heavy, black leather coat drawn around her tightly, her head bent, as if hoping to avoid detection and her lanky legs pushing on with a purpose. Thunder roared somewhere off in the heavens; a spidery vein of lightning shot through the sky setting the grey alight for a moment before fading back into the fog.

The young girl disregarded the pandemonium occurring up above her; she had more pressing matters to allow herself to be concerned with, such as getting home before her very exact curfew of five fifteen in the evening. A minute after that set time, and she would be forced to endure several hours of Latin and Greek studies whilst engaging in rigorous swordplay.

The rain fell harder now, and she could feel the fat drops pelting at the heavy material of her jacket, the deep chill of the autumn weather seeping into her flesh. She felt a pang of remorse jar her heart as she painfully recollected the weather on the day that she was driven to the orphanage, tears streaking her ashen pallor, her hands white-knuckled as she gripped at the handle of her suitcase.

Brusquely she brushed away the thought; she was no longer guardian-less, no longer friendless. She had a home and people who loved her. What more could she want?

But the lack of answers and the abundance of mystery that seemed to shroud her childhood made her heart ache with the desire for knowledge. Her beginnings had been so tragic –she had once longed to erase all memory of that night. But now, all she wanted was to know _why_, why it had happened, why couldn't it have been prevented? Why –

A bolt of lightning arced through the sky, slicing through layers of cloud, the light whiter than an angel's wings, the heat searing….

It was dangerously low to the earth, low enough to strike….

_Clouds of deep grey, swirling, whirling about._

_The heavens opened up as a marvelous rose of light blossomed in the abyss._

_She felt nothing, but her legs buckled from beneath her, the solid pavement hurtling up to meet her being with a hollow crack._

_She didn't feel the searing heat, incinerating the front of her cloack._

_Didn't feel the pain erupting within her muscles._

_Didn't feel her brain being flung towards the back of her skull; the ringing in her ears._

_It all happened so rapidly, like a dream sequence._

_Did any of this truly occur, or was her mind simply wandering? As it was so prone?_


	2. Delusions and Concussions

**Very quietly today, (which is rather unusual because, if I do say so myself, I pride myself on my obnoxiously over-dramatic entrances) , I present to you, whoever's reading this, chapter two of When Worlds Touch. As you can probably guess, Erika has been struck by lightning. She's got really sucky luck, but it all works out I promise. In this chapter, we have a little overview; a series of flashbacks relaying to the reader everything that has happened in Erika's past. Throughout future chapters I plan to have flashbacks into Erika's early childhood. So… if anyone cares, please review. Please. For the love of Karl.**

**Special Thank You to Amaranth Ebony for reviewing this (the first version and this newest one!)! Your fic Munich was my greatest inspiration for this alongside the movie!**

Berlin, Germany- 1942

Funny how she didn't feel a thing as it happened. Didn't feel the searing heat, the pain that was comparable to having a knife driven through her flesh at a maddeningly slow pace. She didn't even feel her body falling to the ground, her head slamming against the stone curb causing an instant concussion.

All she saw, thought, or felt, or comprehended at all, was a white light that seared her retinas, and the blurred images of past memories, flying by as if on fast-forward. Every moment that had caused her pain and sorrow, euphoria and warmth, anything that had happened in her childhood seemingly occurred in seconds and then disappeared.

It was so eerily haunting, and yet her subconscious mind found it so intriguing.

XXX

Berlin, Germany- 1934

She remembered it so vividly, as if it only happened moments before. _The heavens had been a roiling mass of purple clouds, rain and lightning falling from the sky in a fury. She had been shivering beneath her blankets, cowering away from the roaring lioness that was thunder outside, when the hollow clop of jackboots striking the wood planks brought her heart up into her throat. Several orders were shouted from beyond her closed door, the voices too muffled for her to pick out any understandable snippets. Only a sequence of sounds followed…._

_ A slow creaking as a door was opened._

_ A barked order._

_ A loud clicking noise, such as a gun's trigger cocking the hammer._

_ A slight rustling._

_ A piercing scream._

_And the last noise, that would jar her bones and would ring in her ears for months…_

_ Two shots were fired. One was a kill shot, but a low, agonized moaning echoed from deep within the other victim's throat, and instantly, she recognized the voice._

_ Mama._

_ And then, there was silence._

Berlin, Germany – 1935

_The clouds were heavy with snow, the bitter chill of the mid- January air sending chills down her spine. Her leather overcoat, several sizes too big, was oddly draped about her very frail-looking frame. A haversack was slung over her shoulder, a battered violin case banging against her knees as she slowly made her way home. Although, it wasn't really a home. The orphanage her caseworker had placed her in was a nice enough place, she supposed, but the rows of iron-framed beds and the tall, lonely windows gave her deep sense of hollowness and cold._

_ She didn't want to hurry back. The place reminded her of a morgue, and moreover, it reminded her of all that she had lost in a matter of moments, though the pain, she was sure, would last a lifetime. _

_As she crossed into the street, she didn't take note of the car that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, its driver dressed all in black, an alien symbol of a swastika within a dragon-like creature adorning the flags that snapped in the wind, fastened to the metal of the vehicle._

_No, she didn't notice until it was too late. Later, they would file the report as an accident. They didn't know that the driver had every intention of 'forgetting to pay attention' and to not see the girl._

_ That was the day she lost the use of her lower right arm._

Berlin, Germany- 1935

_A monotonous voice droned on in the background like a buzzing bee, the drab scenery of the darkened car and the cracked leather upholstery further blurring the images before her. Her glassy azure eyes glazed over as the chill of the outside leaked in through the small gap between the window and the roof._

_ "Erika, please child, do pay attention. Now, as I was saying, Dr. Kroenen is a very busy man. He is one of the Fuhrer's most trusted agents and therefore has little time for–."_

_The man's words were drowned out amid the vehicle screeching to a loud halt before a large stone house. The marble steps were polished to a shine; the small, manicured front garden was contained by a neat wrought-iron fence, devoid of rust. Everything seemed so perfect…._

_ "Ah, here we are. Dr. Kroenen's home."_

Within the workshop….

_Rows of odd looking masks lined a dented metal operating table, a fire blazing in what appeared to be a large furnace. Various weapons of torture, including maces, prototypes of iron-maidens, and a vast collection of tonfas and daggers and Katara-like swords were mounted in glass display cases. Some of them were covered in a dark, sticky red liquid._

_ The artifacts in the room were so oddly disturbing, and yet, she couldn't help but be the slightest bit curious. Gingerly, with her good hand, she allowed her fingers to brush the cold metal of one of the alien-looking masks. She picked up delicately, examining the round glass eyes that seemed to stare up at her. _

_ It took a few moments, though, for her to realize the round glass eyes in another mask reflecting off of the glass before her…._

_Something heavy and cold rested on her shoulder, the chill of the metal setting her heart on edge. A solid, heavy sound like filtered breaths echoed eerily._

_ "Put that down, please." The voice possessed a somewhat haughty tone, a grating, raspy sound._

_She dared not look back; her hand went limp and the mask clattered against the metal table loudly._

_A heavy sigh sounded from behind her. "I said, 'put it down'. Not 'drop it'."_

_ "I'm sorry." She murmured, but her voice broke midway, rendering unable to speak for fear that the mysterious thing behind her would strike with the heavy dagger._

_There was a moment of somewhat tense silence, and the heavy metal was removed from her shoulder; it felt as if a crushing weight was being lifted. Only until long, scarred fingers replaced this weight, grasping her shoulder tightly and turning her around to face that which the voice had come from._

_ He was tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a slightly bulky upper section, making it obvious that he was muscled. He wore a starched SS uniform, practically dripping with decorations. His face, she could not see, as it was concealed by an ugly looking gas-mask._

_ "How did you get down here, girl?"_

_She couldn't speak; her lips moved but no sound came out._

_ "Ah, your papers did not mention anything about a speech defect."_

_ "I can speak." She whispered. "You did not come up, and your servant had already left. I came down here in search of you." She answered meekly, louder this time though._

_ "The corridor is booby-trapped and the trap can only be controlled by myself. You should be dead."_

_ "Oh, yes. The spikes emit a whirring sound before they appear, so I was able to outrun them." She replied innocently, immediately staring down at her shoes._

_Though she couldn't see his face, she could perceive from the silence that this fact irked him._

_ "Yes, well," he answered at last, "I shall have to improve my security systems then. You wouldn't mind being my test-dummy, now would you?"_

_She stared at him in horror, causing the man to chuckle._

_ "Come along, child. Your of little use to me blubbering on like some tongue-tied nuisance."_

**THANK YOU FOR READING EVERYONE! And remember, please review! More chaos to come in the next chapters **


	3. Sparks Fly

**Really guys, I'm begging you. I live for your reviews and my hopes of writing this fic are gonna end up dying (literally), cause reviews are like the foundation of my self-esteem. I can write for my own peace of mind sure, but you guys are the ones that really make this stuff happen. So, please… pretty friggin' please?**

**Just. One. Review. All I ask.**

**Well, I've preached my misery. Onto another chapter of When Worlds Touch. Promise this to be a good one!**

**Regards,**

**J.B**

**Special thanks to Amaranth Ebony and her amazing fic Munich for inspiring this piece alongside the movie! Inspirational music: If you Believe by Tarja Turunen**

**Introducing OC(s): Dr. Robert Fleischer, a vampiric Gestapo Officer with hopes of being liberated from his curse in the new Eden and Kroenen's 2****nd****-in-Command (These two have a kinda of twisted bromance because they are POLAR OPPOSITES).**

Berlin, Germany- 1942

Her flesh had paled to an ashen pallor, her lustrous hair, the color of caramels, fanned out against the pillow. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. The sleeve of her blouse had been burned, along with a portion of synthetic skin that hid the intricate network of metal and wiring from the elbow down.

He sighed heavily, allowing his scarred fingertips to gingerly inspect the damage.

"Struck by lightning," he muttered. "Preposterous. Leave it to Erika to achieve the most impossible – and by far the most expensive – damages."

Fleischer snickered beside him. "Allow me to give you a little advice, Karl. Every girl is born bound and determined to leave a trail of wreckage in her wake wherever she goes."

Kroenen glared at him darkly. "Lucky for me, I am not as unfortunate to have so much experience as you."

The other man only smiled, revealing long, pointed teeth. Blue eyes flashed scarlet for a moment, behind silver-rimmed specs. "I don't like hospitals." He said blatantly, though he still grinned. Kroenen massaged his masked temples, as if it would somehow alleviate the throbbing.

"I wasn't asking you if you did, though I'm sure you are going to tell me why."

"Too much temptation around." He bared his teeth innocently, though his eyes were lit with a mischievous glint. His companion shook his head.

"Your problem is that you delight in drawing attention to yourself. If you'd better control your instincts we wouldn't have to be continuously apologizing to mindless idiots whom you've further stupefied with your obnoxious habits."

Fleischer feigned a pouting look. "I found that rather cutting, Karl." He sniffed indignantly. "You know my self-esteem is so easily wounded." He adjusted his glasses. "Besides, if you haven't noticed you stick out in a crowd yourself."

"I've accepted myself for what I am, Robert." He answered resignedly. "We, all of us, are freaks. That is what the public will always perceive us as."

"I prefer the termination 'phriques', actually." He spelled out the word curtly. "It adds that nice alluring touch. And to be frank, the regular mortals in this world are oblivious to the higher races like myself anyway." He smiled.

"Don't flatter yourself." Kroenen muttered darkly. "Blood-sucking corpses are nothing if not primal. It's an insult to the Thule and to the Master to consider yourself _advanced_."

"Well," Fleischer sat back in his chair, taking a drink from a silver, ruby-adorned flask. "You needn't be so snobby about it." He glared at his partner and lit a cigarette. "And you call me obnoxious? I'm not the one waving retractable blades around before some idiotic resident and causing useless pandemonium simply because he was attempting to draw blood from the girl without wearing _gloves_. If anyone needs a lesson on etiquette and how to act in public, it's you."

XXX

She awoke to a muttered conversation, blurry images slowly coming into focus as her heightened senses readjusted themselves.

"_Onkel,_" she murmured softly. Almost immediately Kroenen was at her side, stroking her head softly.

"How are you, _meine liebe?_"

She sat up slowly and stretched. "Wha… What happened?"

"You somehow managed to walk in front of bolt of lightning and got fried in the process." Another voice answered pointedly.

"Guten Abend, Dr. Fleischer."

"Actually, it's morning, love. You were unconscious for a little while. Truly, it's a wonder you're alive at all."

She blinked, allowing her sight to slowly trickle back into her eyes. "I want to go home."

"Unfortunately, the doctors will not allow me to take you home until they've thoroughly tested you." Kroenen muttered, irritated. "They're simply so amazed at how you survived." He added sarcastically.

"Did… was I actually struck?"

He glanced at her arm. "Unfortunately you suffered wounds in the arm and a minor concussion. Blast it Erika, why can't you be more careful! It could take months to repair the wiring, to patch the skin…."

"I didn't mean to!" her lower lip trembled and he could tell she was on the verge of tears.

Kroenen sighed. Naturally, he really had no authority to be scolding her for something she had so little control over. He stood up and brushed off his sleeves.

"Fleischer, have the doctors send the charge to my secretary."

"But Karl,"

"If the hospital has any problems with me taking my niece home, please ask them to contact my higher authorities. I'm sure they'll straighten things out." He answered smoothly.

"Karl, your higher authority is the _Fuhrer_." Fleischer replied pointedly.

"Exactly. No doubt his secretaries will smooth things out."


End file.
